Mate-mare
by Monsoon Raindrops
Summary: Draco is a werewolf, and wants to possess every bit of Hermione. The human side is less than thrilled, and draws up a plan to kill her. Rated M, for lemons and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The characters, places, magic belongs to JK Rowling. I just stringed some events together.**

**Note: This takes place in DH. When the three get captured by those snatchers. Except Draco's been bitten by Fenir 2 weeks back, and is locked upstairs.**

**Rated: M**

1.

The smile on Bellatrix's face was wicked.

"I have an idea."

Hermione, collapsed on the floor, couldn't see past her tangle of curls. She didn't really want too. Her bones were aching, and blood was pooling in her mouth.

"Let's not put her back in the dungeons. Draco must be hungry."

"No!" Narcissa stood on her two feet. "What Fenir did was terrible! I don't need you encouraging the savage part of my son. Haven't you heard? There's potions now, that control this sort of thing. We could have Draco back."

Bellatrix scoffed, not impressed with Narcissa's optimistic view. The boy had been bitten 2 weeks ago. Draco had been very pale, but fine the first day. But he went to bed, and woke up a snarling beast. It took 7 deatheaters to barricade his door with spells and large objects.

"Just let him have the mudblood."

Bellatrix clapped her hands, and a house-elf appeared beside her.

"Take this filthy girl and feed her to my nephew," Bellatrix instructed.

The house-elf bowed and touched a single finger to Hermione's forehead. They both appeared in a dark room, and the house-elf hurridedly disapparated, leaving Hermione sprawled on the floor. What felt like hours later, but probably minutes, Hermione made duckling-like efforts to get to her feet.

"Harry," she gasped, "Ron." Even though she didn't think she was in the dungeons with them.

A low snarl vibrated through the room, and Hermione shrank back in fear. Where was the noise coming from? It sounded like it was omnipresent. Hermione staggered a few steps, and nearly fell over a bed.

A bed?

Her fingertips came across a silk duvet and pillowcase.

Her eyes widened, when she felt a narrow strip of wood, the answer to all her prayers. She looked side to side, but she couldn't see anything in the darkness. If this was a trap, at least she stood a chance.

The second she muttered "_lumos," _something heavy landed on her.

It felt disgusting, because she could feel it panting and drooling into her hair. And it was definitely pawing at her clothes. Her body was already battered and tender, and this deadweight was slowly crushing the life out of her. Hermione didn't have enough energy to cry.

In a last ditched attempted, she shouted "STUPEFY!"

The thing on top of her was not happy. It snarled again, and wrenched her to face it by both shoulders. The red jet had careened into open space, and not hit it's target. Hermione quickly relit her wand, another curse bursting from her lips. That ended with a shriek when she realised what - or rather _who - _was pinning her down.

Draco Malfoy, was staring down at her.

But there didn't seem to be any recognition behind those eyes. Because if there _had _been_, _he would be scrougifying every part of his body in an attempt to remove her germs.

Hermione looked past his face, because to be honest, it was scaring her and looked at his chest.

He wasn't wearing a robe. His skin was alabaster white, and 3 nasty scratches eclipsed his shoulder. Hermione tried looking down, but she couldn't see anything beyond the place their hips were pressed together.

This was an intimate position.

Hermione had never felt so vulnerable in her life.

_You're my childhood nemesis. What the fuck are you doing?_

As if sensing the wand was a threat, Draco grabbed hold of that wrist, and tightened his hold to painful levels. Hermione had no choice but to let the wand go. He lowered his head, hot puffs skimming her collarbone, before he buried his nose into the crick there.

Hermione froze.

The air around them seemed to freeze.

And then all hell broke loose.

Jaws clamped down into her neck, tightening, breaking blood vessels. Dear Merlin. He was attempting to kill her by draining her blood. But then...his pelvis was moving too. In a circular fashion. And a long, hard and straining cock was rubbing against the zip of her jeans.

Hermione's knees were clamped together.

Malfoy reached down, parted them, and then pulled them up high and out of the way. He took that opportunity to press his length straight into the centre of her crotch.

Hermione let out a cry of shock.

It was unconciously done. Even though her knickers and jeans were barriers, she could feel every ridge and tip of his bulbous head weeping a little. Hermione clasped her hands on Draco's upper arms. She willed him to look at her. To realise who she was and get this madness to stop. But his hungry eyes was focusing on the point he was still grinding into.

At some point he had let her neck go.

Now it was all about the sexual release.

The idea of Malfoy releasing his passion, on top of her crotch disgusted Hermione. She tried shutting her knees again. But Draco quickly reprimanded her, by jerking her knees back to her prior place, and giving a sharp slap to her clit sheilding away from him like a bud.

Hermione let out a noise of protest.

But instantly hot liquid pooled in her knickers. It was arousal. That little slap he had done - her body had _really _liked it.

The scent was what did him in.

One moment, he was staring at every square inch of skin like he wanted to eat it up, the next- he launched off her with a howl and started spasming on the floor. Shaken, Hermione grabbed the lit wand, and held it up to see. He was holding his head in agony. Frothing.

All rationality fled back to Hermione's mind.

"STUPEFY!" she cried, and this time she didn't miss.

Hermione didn't allow herself to think what had just happened in the past few minutes, and let the ramifications hit home. She slipped the wand into her belt, and tried the door. It didn't budge. Hermione threw a disbeliving look back. Had they locked him in? With a wand? What was the point of that?

Hermione tried a simple "Alohomora," and the door cracked open an inch.

It couldn't go any further, because it felt like the door had been barricaded. A blasting spell cleared that problem. She ran out to the landing, and she could hear a huge fight downstairs.

"HERMIONE!"

That was Ron.

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

And Harry!

They had managed to escape like her. Hermione jumped down the stairs, unfamliar with the floor plan, but following the commotion. It lead her straight to the scene, of a chandelier collapsing on Bellatrix.

"Where have you been?" Harry cried, spotting her.

Strangely he was holding the hands of Dobby.

"Come over here! Dobby, take Ron and Hermione first."

Dobby searched Harry's eyes. "I'll come back for you."

And Dobby did, at the cost of his own life.

**AN: Next chapter. The war's over, and Harry take's Draco in to Grimmauld's Place. Guess who's not happy?**

**Please give a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: *Whistles same old tune***

**Note: A bit of a delay. Apologies. My mojo kept getting destroyed, when people kept knocking on my door, wanting stuff. Guess it's a lot better than people not knocking on my door, wanting stuff. Confused? :)**

**Rated: M**

2. Three years Later

The owl arrived in the middle of the night, like the quiet before a storm. Hermione hadn't been able to sleep that particular night, something to do with the weather, when a loud noise came from Harry's study.

"Shit!"

"Harry?" Her feet was quick against the carpet. Harry was lucky that they didn't live at the Burrow, where his outburst would've woken the entire household. Instead she was all he had to contend with, besides Kreacher, at Grimmauld Place. And Kreacher wouldn't dream of disturbing his master.

"Is everything all right?" She gave a courtesy knock, before entering and clocking Harry at his desk.

Harry looked the picture of devastation, cradling his messy, tepid hair into his arms and hiding his face.

Hermione crouched besides him, and put a hand on his back.

"What's wrong?" she urgently asked. "What's the matter?"

She noticed a brown piece of parchment curled inside his lax fingers. Without asking for permission, she pulled it out and scanned the news quickly. It wasn't good.

_Harry, it's regrettable to inform you, but Narcissa's been found dead.  
__An even more bigger concern is her son.  
Draco has been rushed to St. Mungo's, with a severe case of gangrene.  
He's delirious. When he gets discharged, he needs to go somewhere safe.  
Perhaps with you?_

_Once again, sorry to be the bearer of bad news.  
- Kingsley_

"This is terrible," Hermione shook her head.

"I owe it to her," Harry whispered. "Malfoy needs to come here."

Surprisingly, Hermione could understand his concern but knew she couldn't be around when it came to pass. Tomorrow, she would consider packing her bags and moving out. Where to? Ginny still had a spare bed in her room. She had only moved to Grimmauld Place, because the Burrow was getting seriously overcrowded anyway.

"Harry, that's great but I will need to go."

"Why?"

Hermione hesitated at Harry's squinted look. His eyes still looked terribly cloudy.

"There's something I haven't told you. Do you remember that day Dobby died?"

"All too well." She was sorry to bring it up, if anything, to avoid the haunted expression on Harry's face.

"Well, before we made our escape I was locked in Malfoy's room." She shivered. "It wasn't a pleasant experience. It was almost like someone else. Malfoy, he...he pushed me on his bed. And he displayed inappropriate sexual behaviour."

"Did he..?" Harry looked even more sad. Hermione felt guilty.

"No! Nothing like that. I managed to get away before something happened," Hermione worried her lip. "But I'm not sure if I want to be in the same room with him again without knowing the cause. Because it was un-natural. Unexplainable."

"You should have told me earlier," Harry was pale-faced. "I would've castrated the son of a bitch."

"Harry," Hermione gave him a look full of warning. She hadn't revealed that piece of information so Harry could carry out his own personal piece of vendetta. This was on a need-to-know basis. "He needs urgent medical evaluation before we condemn him."

She was interrupted by a second owl, whisking in through the window. It circled around the candelabra once, before dropping a heavy parchment tied into a scroll. Harry didn't hesitate breaking the seal, and scanning the words, this time in more hope. Hermione leant over his shoulder to read it herself.

_Harry Potter, as Draco Malfoy's appointed guardian, we request your presence immediately.  
Your charge is getting more uncontrollable by the minute.  
Thankfully his gangrene has been cured, though frequent foot rubs are still required._

_-St. Mungo's, Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries._

"I need to go, but I'll floo," Harry stood up.

Hermione was still shaking her head, when he left the room for the kitchen.

* * *

The fire behind her turned emerald, moments before Harry popped his head through the fireplace.

"Hermione!" he said, excited. "You don't have to leave!"

"Don't be silly," Hermione shook her head, coming to kneel beside his floating head. "Of course I do. I appreciate you letting me stay here, but I need to move on."

"But there's an explanation!"

Hermione rasied an eyebrow.

"There's an explanation for the heightened sexual behaviour," Harry garbled. "He's a werewolf! He was bitten years ago, and Narcissa locked him up to stop people finding out. If he'd been allowed to roam free, he could've sown his wild oats, but a room Hermione? That would frustrate any wolf."

Hermione let out a bark of disbelief. But it was making a lot of sense. So Malfoy hadn't assaulted her, because he _wanted _to, but because he didn't have full control of his actions.

A heavy weight was lifted.

"So what if I believe you?" Hermione asked, hugging her knees. "How do we help him?"

The joy on Harry's face was palpable. He now had an ally on his side, who was willing to help him. The best possible ally. Hermione Granger, the girl who wouldn't let go, even if she was told too.

"I'm glad you asked that question, because I'm coming home."

"Oh?"

"With him."

Hermione didn't have time to shriek, before two heads appeared in the fire. Draco was jerking back, hissing a little, and Harry was forcing him to bend over and keep his head in the fire. Hermione had the random metal image of a poor nurse walking into Draco's room, and seeing two bottoms sticking into the air.

She fought a giggle.

And turned it into a gasp.

"Right now?"

"He was discharged several minutes ago, so yeah," Harry shrugged. "You might want to step back though. Two bodies landing on top of you isn't as easy as it sounds."

Hermione gave a shell-shocked nod, and crawled back.

The next second, Harry launched head-first into the living room with Draco in a headlock. The two boys tousled, and Draco made a half-hearted attempt to jump back in the fire. Hermione, with quick reflexes, threw ash on top of the hearth so Draco would have zero chance of leaving.

"Kidnap, Potter?" he got to his own two feet, and brushed himself off. "Hardly subtle."

Hermione was gawking. The Draco she had encountered at the Manor, and the Draco described as wild and feral by the St. Mungo's staff, couldn't be anymore different from the Draco standing in front of them.

He was dressed in pyjamas, true.

But he still managed to maintain self-pride in his appearance. His hair had been combed over to a side-parting.

"Granger," he spotted her. "Should of known you had a part in this."

He was treating her like...normal. There was no indication in his eyes, or body language, that he remembered their last encounter still fiercely implanted in her brain. The way he mauled her in the dark. Spreading her legs wide open so he could hitch them high, and rub his cock against her heat.

Maybe she didn't have to go? If Draco didn't remember...then she could obliviate her brain. Later.

Hermione crossed her arms, and tried to let stark amusement play across her face.

"I wish I could say yes, but this was all Harry's idea."

"You must be tired," Harry typically said, clapping a hand on Draco's shoulder. "I'll show you to your room, before I go back and collect your wand from that nice nurse. You know, she had an interesting story to tell me. Apparently you bribed the entire contents of your Gringott account multiple times, just to get it back..."

Hermione watched them go, Draco dragging his feet, Harry pulling him along.

* * *

The next morning, an unexpected arrival caused her to nearly lose her breakfast.

"Do you have any coffee?"

Hermione jumped, an involuntary action, and cursed at her reaction to his voice. Draco was merely asking for a coffee, not asking her to take her clothes off. _Accomplished legimens remember, _her brain warned.

"It's on the third cupboard to the left," she assisted. "First shelf."

"Thank you," he said, when he hit the jackpot. It felt extremely strange to hear those foreign words come out from Malfoy's mouth, and she could tell it made him feel uncomfortable too. He covered up his _faux pas, _by clattering mugs together and opening several draws trying to locate spoons.

"Draw right in front of you. Right at the back." Hermione allowed herself a secret smile.

"So what are you doing today?" she asked, when it looked like he wasn't going to show his gratitude the second time round. She turned around to face him, and leant against the sink. "Anywhere you're planning to go?"

"No," he shortly said, eyeing the kettle next to her.

"Oh?" Hermione pouted. "That doesn't sound like any fun."

Draco stared at her bug-eyed, like he couldn't believe the flirty tone she had just used, and Hermione's smile dropped. Who did she think she was exactly entertaining here? This man was deranged, and still hurting over his mother's death. Although hospital treatment might have salvaged him, his sanity was still a ticking time bomb.

_No encouragement, _Hermione strictly ordered herself. _You don't want a repeat of the Manor._

"I'm sorry," Hermione cleared her throat. "I just thought you might have other affairs."

"Look mudblood," Draco took a step forward, in order to intimidate her. "I don't really want to be here, but Potter practically forced my hand in the matter, relieved me off my wand, and made this house inescapable. So don't go taunting me with _Is there anywhere you're planning to go?_ with those big eyes of yours."

Draco came to an abrupt halt. Hermione widened her eyes.

"What was that?" he growled.

"What was what?" Hermione frantically looked elsewhere.

"What I just said," he stared her down. "That wasn't me."

"No, it was just your wolfish counterpart," Hermione muttered, deciding enough was enough. She put down her mug, and skirted around Draco like he was a wildebeest in order to exit the door. As Hermione was on the verge of leaving, she heard a pained grunt behind her. Common sense told her not to look. Common sense told her a lot of things. But Hermione ignored them, and chanced a look back.

Draco was doubled over, cupping his privates.

"What. The. Fuck?" he panted.

His palms were big, oppressive even. But they weren't big enough to cover the tent threatening to break free from his pants. Hermione gave a startled gasp. Draco was hanging his head in shame. Even a blind monkey would be able to take a whiff, and see how aroused he was.

"What happened?" was all she could think to ask.

"Fenir Greyback is what happened," Draco said through clenched teeth. "He bit me, and now I'm like this. A slave to carnal pleasure. A particularly strong wind current, and I'm up like no man's business."

"But we're inside," Hermione faintly said. She had a vivid flashback to the last time she was stuck in a room, when Draco Malfoy had a raging problem. He had pinned her against the bed, and rubbed into her. What about this time? Maybe what he was saying was the truth. She could leave, and he wouldn't notice...

A pained whine, one a dog should never make, came from Draco's lips as he sank to the floor.

He looked like his balls were going to kill him.

"Malfoy!" she snapped. "Go to your room and sort it out!"

And god help Harry when he got home. The Boy who Lived, was going to wish he died when she was through with him. He was going to stay up all night, with her, and help brew potions that controlled werewolves. Now they knew the root of the problem, it would solve everything.

She hoped.

Draco was still making pitiful noises on the floor.

"MALFOY," she said loudly. "Sort it out in private, please."

* * *

**AN: Wrote this chapter back to front. Review me for thoughts, please?**

**Next chapter, Hermione tries to obliviate her memory...to some hilarious consequences...(or not so hilarious. Still haven't decided yet!)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: HP is a brand. A brand I fan-worship.**

**Note: A little kinky. A little funny. What isn't there to like? Try to drop me a line!**

**Rated: M**

3.

Draco cursed, as he leapt up the stairs three at a time, still cupping his privates. He threw open the first door he came across, and slammed it after him before sagging against it.

One hand quickly disappeared under his waistband, and grasped his erection.

It felt like heaven. His hand was cool, against his scorching flesh and presented a myriad of sensations. He knew exactly knew which spots to press, to get a reaction and moaned heavily.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn't be making such a noise.

But what the hell!

The fabric of his trousers were distracting him, so he pulled his occupied hand out, and kept pumping. He had done this, thousands, nay millions of times before. His hand was a blur as it slid up and down, and he felt a pressure build up in his aching sacs.

It felt too good.

Too.

Fucking.

Great.

Not really focusing on anything, mind an incoherent mess, he brought his hand up to his shaft one last time, and gave a vigorous squeeze that was the final push. Not aiming it as such, but aiming nonetheless, a jet of white release flew in an arc and splattered against a picture frame sitting a few yards away.

Utterly spent, Draco tucked himself back in.

"Probably should've used a tissue to catch the mess," he realised in hindsight.

The warm afterglow that usually hung in his belly after a wank, dissipated when he saw whose picture his cum had the misfortune of landing on. He darted over, just to be sure, and nearly had a coronary.

"Balls on a stick," he grabbed it up to his nose. "Please tell me _no."_

Hermione Granger, who had been enjoying an ice-cream in happier times, had dropped her spoon and was screaming in agony. Her eyes were welded shut, as if she had witnessed something terrible, and she was hopping about on one foot.

"Look at me," he tapped the glass with one finger. "It's all right. You didn't see what you think you did."

The mudblood cracked open an eyelid, and screamed even harder, when she saw Draco's nose millimetres away from her cosy, timeless world.

"Sssh," he said, for once, grateful it wasn't a painting he was holding now. At least pictures were mute.

There was no tissues in the near vicinity, so Draco desperately tugged the nearest thing he could find. Which happened to be the corner of an ultra soft, ultra feminine duvet. Crap, this wasn't his room, was it? Just his luck, that the first room he tore into had to belong to the Gryffindor Princess.

"It's OK," he was still hushing her, as he wiped away the evidence. "Nothing happened here. Move along."

When the picture frame was sparkling once more, he shook it until Hermione fell over. "Shut up!" he barked cruelly. "No-one can hear you! At least plaster a smile on your face and keep it a secret!" He threw the picture away, disgusted, and tried to remember why he was trying to strike a bargain with a moving mirage.

"Fuck this," he growled. "I'm outta here."

He walked over to the bolted windows, and put a hand on each latch.

"Here goes," he grimaced, sinews bulging in his muscles, as he attempted to lift it clear.

Finally minutes, or maybe it was an hour later, Draco slumped against the floor exhausted. He gave a shout of utter rage and crawled over to where he had discarded Hermione's picture.

"This is all your fault," he ranted. "And stupid Potter!"

He picked up the frame, and rapped his knuckles against the centre. Hermione was putting on a no-show, the table she was sitting at and the half-eaten glass of ice-cream abandoned. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw a disgruntled head poke in with distinct brunette hair.

Draco didn't think twice.

He wrenched open his waistband, and shoved the irritating picture down his front. Then imagining her surprised face, plastered up against his naked balls, Draco doubled over and started laughing.

It was the most fun he had in weeks.

* * *

Hermione was a trained professional. She knew exactly which memory she wanted to extract, when she aimed the wand at her temple later that morning. Alone in the kitchen, Hermione let the emotions of three years ago fill her brain. Unlike before, she embraced it, for the first time not feeling ashamed to relive the encounter.

She was back in Draco's room.

He was on top of her.

Her eyes darted side to side, as she felt the ghost of his impatient slap across her clit. She jumped in her chair, clenching her thighs.

See. This is exactly what she didn't need. It had haunted her endlessly, too perplexing to remove, but now she knew the reason behind that exchange, and Draco himself, didn't remember it...

Time for it to go.

Hermione calmly said the spell to clear her worries. "Obliviate."

She felt an impact definitely, a tingling sensation that washed through her skull, before it died way into nothingness. Hermione blinked, suddenly unsure to why she was sitting here, pointing a wand at her brain. Foolishly, she put it down and patted her hair.

In the distance, she was aware of violent hiccuping.

"Harry?" she called out, hesitantly. "Is that you?"

The hiccuping was punctuated with deep, masculine snorts.

Feeling more and more like a victim in her own house, Hermione pushed back her chair silently. The fact that it didn't creak was something short of a miracle. Her weight balanced evenly on rounded tip-toes, Hermione crept after the noise as it wound down the hallway, up the staircase, and to the first room on that landing.

Her room.

Hermione instinctively bared her teeth, ready to face battle.

"GOTCHA!"

She threw open the door, and brandished her wand exactly the same time she remembered it was still on the kitchen table. Instead, her horrified eyes travelled down her arm and onto a floored Draco Malfoy. Who, quick as a flash, reached into his underwear and threw something rectangular across her bed.

"What are you-?" she gaped.

"Mudblood!" he struggled to his feet. "What happened to sorting it out in private?"

"You shouldn't be here..."

"I know," Draco rolled his eyes. "But it was an emergency, and I couldn't find my room.." Not that he had even tried. "And then I was doing it, and it felt too good to stop..." Ask the picture, she'd back him up.

"MALFOY!" she suddenly shrieked, startling him. "You weren't meant to come till later! I needed to pack! What are you doing here so god-damned early?!"

"Um..." Draco held up his hands.

"What were you doing?" Her eyes darted to her bed. "Oh, god. You've come to finish what you started!"

"I'm what?" Draco was genuinely bemused.

"You pervert!" she accused, staggering him to the core. "I saw you pull out my picture, you dirty bastard! What was Harry thinking, letting you into my room? Letting you into the _house, _even! He knows what you did to me! He knows how much I didn't want to be in your presence!"

Draco took a step forward, if anything, to voice his confusion.

"Wait there!" she said with determination, backing out of the room.

Like hell he was going to wait. Draco chased Hermione all the way to the kitchen, just in time to see her grab her wand. Oh no. Mad and deranged Hermione was bad enough, but with a _wand..._

"Accio Kettle!"

The kettle swung into the air, wavering, and Draco eyed it with growing trepidation. He had good reason too. It rushed towards him, and emptied it's contents on top of the spot Draco had stood, just seconds before. "Merlin, woman. Are you crazy?!"

"Stupefy!"

Draco ducked as a red jet, flew over his head and hit two cupboards. There was an explosion of plates. A shard flew into Draco's head, and he crumbled, a red patch blossoming over his hair. Seriously. If this was how she reacted to him wanking near _photographs _of her, remind him never to touch his dick again.

"Hermione?"

The quiet, surprised voice of Potter was a welcome relief, as he slumped against the floor.

"H-Harry..."

The bitch was acting. The vulnerable voice she now pitched, was in total odds to her earlier performance.

"What have you _done?" _Thankfully, Potter had a good dose of common sense. He ran over to Draco, and pulled him up on his lap. Highly disturbing to say the least. But Draco went with it. He gave a theatrical moan, and raised one blood soaked hand to point to the evil fiend staring at them.

"She...She..."

"Hermione, _what happened?" _Harry asked again, sharply.

"I don't know," she dropped her wand, eyes brimming.

"Why are you attacking Malfoy?"

She held both ends of her robe together, like she was trying to gather herself. "The l-last thing I remember, was an owl with a letter... it said you were Draco Malfoy's guardian...and then you left..."

"That's all you can remember?" Harry pressed.

She gave a small, diminutive nod.

"Hermione, that was over 24 hours ago. A lot has happened since then."

"Has it?"

"YES. I told you about Malfoy's condition. How Fenir, that piece of shit, took a bite out of Malfoy and Narcissa locked him up, to stop the whole wizarding world finding out. When you met him, in those early weeks, the wolf was still in control. There was no Malfoy there. After hearing that, you accepted it, and agreed to stay and help me."

"I did?" Hermione's puzzlement was a clear indicator that something had gone wrong.

"Do you know what date it is?"

"Yes. November 21st."

Draco was staring at her wide-eyed. "Even _I _know it's the 22nd, and I've been locked up 3 years."

"Shut up," Harry and Hermione snapped simultaneously, not taking their eyes of each other.

"Ignore me," Draco laid back down on Harry's lap, closing his eyes. "I'm just bleeding to death over here."

Pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together for Hermione. She remembered the disorientation she felt, when she found herself pointing a wand at her head. Maybe she had tried to obliviate something, and accidentally wiped out the last 24 hours of her life?

It was disconcerting to find her magic had failed in that regard.

No more memory spells, until she learnt her lesson.

* * *

That night, Draco was brooding in his room, when a slight knock interrupted his thoughts. He was on the cusp of telling whoever it was to piss off, but remembered who was holding the cards. Sighing, he removed his ailing bones from bed, and limped to the bedroom door, cracking it open an inch.

It was Hermione.

Worrying her lip.

"Here," she thrust forward a bundle with a ferocious scowl, that reeked of herbal lavender. "I don't want this anymore." She nodded. "You can have it."

Draco shut the door in her face.

He threw it down on the floor, and turned back to face his bed.

But a burning trail up his spine, whispered for him to have a second look. Cursing, he crouched over the bundle and deftly undid the knot Hermione had expertly tied. It looked and felt extremely familiar.

"Why has that bitch given me her duvet?" he grumbled.

There was more. As the layers fell away, in the epicentre was a lone photo frame that made the skin on his chest flush particularly hot. He raised it up to eye-level, and saw Ice-Cream Hermione scream and dive for cover.

"_Bitch."_

He hurled the photo-frame as hard as he could, to the opposite side of his room. It smacked into the wall, and fell to the floor with a delightful tinkling sound. The very gall. Draco's hands curled into fists on either side. To think, he would be interested in keeping a photo of _her, _licking an ice-cream spoon suggestively.

Retribution swam fierce in his eyes.

He stalked over to where the photo frame had cracked in three different places and shook it, to get rid of the glass.

He picked up the vacated photo, and smirked openly.

"Next time I masturbate, you've got a ringside view," he crooned, crunching up the polaroid and stuffing it into his pocket, feeling a hundred times better as he strolled back to bed.

* * *

**AN: Review if you want chapter four!**

**Thanks to all my reviewers so far x**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Stop being so Potty! How can I can own he?**

**Note: Notice my new book cover? All courtesy of paint, hehe.**

4.

Everyone in the house was fucking tip-toeing around him. The next night, he walked in on Harry and Hermione having a secret, loved-up dinner, whiplashing their heads when he came through the door. He walked to the kettle, giving it an undignifed prod, and waited for it to whistle.

"Well carry on then," he waved a hand.

"Should you tell him, or shall I?" Harry challenged.

They started getting into a weird staring battle, which Hermione seemed to buckle under.

"Uh Malfoy," she cleared her throat. "You're boiling the water all wrong."

"Am I?" he glanced down bemused, wondering if she had switched the water to pumpkin juice last minute. Oh ha ha. Let's all laugh at Malfoy as he boils pumpkin juice like a blithering idiot, none the wiser. What evening entertainment! To Potter's credit, his lower lip was trembling in an effort to look serious.

"Yeah," she hesitated. "You've got to press the switch. See that big red thing?"

"Oh," Draco coloured. If anything, her nonchalance riled him up even more. Miss Perfect needed a few feathers a-ruffling. Harry looked gutted for some reason. Suddenly, not wanting to spend a second longer with his prison guards, he grabbed the entire kettle and turned to go upstairs.

"I can't believe you bottled it," Harry hissed behind him.

Draco didn't turn around to look at the sorrowful expression crossing Hermione's face. Let them continue whispering secrets a while longer. Pretty soon he was going to bust their asses.

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, Draco was having his customary jerk-off. It was his morning ritual - something to get him through the day - and it relieved a lot of pressure too. Just as his nads were swelling up with dick juice- a knock on the door ruined all his fun.

Grumbling, he left himself alone for a bit, just to shake hands with whoever was waiting on the otherside.

The bloody prick deserved it.

"Potter," he said, holding his hand out in customary greeting. _Go on. Shake it. It'll be a belter when you find out where it's been. _"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Harry was already dressed, and he shifted his feet in awkward displeasure. He looked behind him, at the dark shadows in the hallway, before turning around to face Draco again. He didn't bother shaking Draco's hand. Instead he wiped the sweaty palms on neatly-pressed, charcoal robes.

"I don't know how to tell you..." Harry mumbled. "But today has a lot in store."

"Like?"

"Get dressed. And here's a tissue just in case."

What the fuck? Was Potter giving him the tools for a power wank? Draco had little choice, but to accept the hanger carrying his own black robes. He stared down at it, his gut slowly tearing into little pieces, then blasting into the air by a wind machine. A choke crumbled in his chest.

Poop on a stick.

_It was his mother's funeral._

The choke turned into a laugh. Oh, hadn't his longing been in delicious irony? To escape the confines of the hospital, and later, a god-forsaken tragedy called Grimmauld Place. And BAM! Just like that, the moment an opportunity came, it was a farewell ceremony to his _mother._

Life fucking sucked.

"Malfoy?" Harry reappeared, like he had never really left. Which come to think of it - he hadn't. "Are you okay?"

"Zip it."

"It's just -erm- you look and sound kinda crazy."

"It's called grief, shrimp."

"Do shrimps laugh?"

Malfoy slammed the door in Potter's face, leaving the latter to blink dazedly and turn back to the shadows. In the dim light, Hermione was leaning against the wall, a critical look in her eye.

"Well, that exceeded my expectations."

"At least I didn't chicken out!" Harry planted his feet a width apart. "Ooh, Malfoy, that's a kettle! You do know it has a spout and a handle, don't you?" He mimicked.

"That was uncalled for."

"I know. I'm sorry. Tensions, you know?"

"You're forgiven."

Harry let out a long sigh, and dug his fingers into his unkempt, black hair. He suddenly looked older than his 25 years, the jagged shadows under his glasses pointing to an older man. Hermione didn't look a spring chick herself. When was the last time she bothered to moisturise?

"I wish Remus was still here, you know. He would've known what to do."

"Figures," Hermione let out a shadow of a smile. "He _was _a werewolf."

The silence was precious, but oh so golden. Malfoy reemerged from his room, surprisingly teary-eyed, and growled at them to show the way. "Come on, you fuckers. Stop being a bunch of ditherers."

"Hermione, you hold onto him. I'll take over on the return journey."

"Fair enough."

She slid a hand around the cuff of his wrist, ignoring the particularly dark glare he sent her. Honestly. She was treating him like a toddler. Like him unsupervised, would mean him running off the first chance he got. Draco flexed his fingers. To be honest, that didn't sound like a bad idea.

Maybe then, he could fondle his cock in peace.

_Thank you, mum. _He thought. _Now I have a sliver of a chance to escape._

The apparition to the cemetery was a bit of a shock. Mudblood didn't give him a chance to admire the morning sun, before they were in a decrepit graveyard somewhere. Positively ancient, with tombstones sticking out like sore thumbs. His mother had the best spot. Right in the middle, with some fancy marble tomb.

Draco stared at it in shock.

He didn't even know she had the money.

"Ah," a wizarding official had a quill poised between his fingers, obviously on minister duty. "So the next of kin has arrived. Now the procession can begin."

Halfway through the ceremony, Draco became aware he was being closely watched. By Granger. She was analysing every shred of emotion that flicked onto his face, with ruthless intensity. Draco didn't care though. His mother had left him for very little wants, except for that ridiculous chapter where she locked him up for 3 years.

_Merlin. _He closed his eyes. _How stifled he had been. And not an ounce of pity from this woman._

He didn't chose to be a wolf, but he wasn't going to reject it, however many times she ordered it.

"You really are heartless, aren't you," Hermione spoke up, startling him. "Your last family member is being lowered into the ground, and all you can do, is smirk and look at me."

"I'm not smirking!"

"Yes you are."

Draco rearranged his features into an annoyed scowl.

"If you must know, there is a smidgen of sadness, but it's overpowered by lingering resentment. I'm glad the bitch is dead," he spat on the grave, a serious faux pas in an individual that is meant to be mourning. The minister gasped, and scribbled furiously into his scroll. Harry looked livid.

And Hermione?

She just looked suspicious.

"Are you acting with me?"

"Acting? _Acting?"_

_"_You worshipped the grounds she walked on back in school. What's with this sudden attitude?"

"It's called growing a pair of balls."

Hermione's eyes dipped, perhaps unintentionally, to the zip that was straining against his bulge. She fucking killed him with that look. "Hmm, I can see that." Why did she sound so contemplational? Draco whisked his robes to cover his privates, breaking her gaze, and a scarlet tinge crept up her neck.

Fucking hell.

This mudblood needed serious banging.

A rock against the head, should do it.

As ever, the moment his head strayed to his dick, it started to harden. Nothing to do with the mudblood at all, perfectly natural. He coughed and asked for a toilet break. The minister was still looking at him like he was a speck of dirt beneath his shoes, and the funeral was basically over, so why shouldn't he?

Potter was staring at him too.

"Oh. Well okay."

She had this all thought out.

The perimeter of the graveyard, was lined with thick branched trees. She took her wand out, now they were alone, and directed him to a base of a poplar tree.

Malfoy scoffed.

"If you think I'm watering the roots, think again."

"Get it done and over with, or wet your pants. Your choice."

Malfoy cursed, eyes darting around. This wasn't exactly how he planned his escape. Getting his prick out, whilst a deluded mudblood hag breathed down his neck. But he was stronger than her. And faster. This was a given any time of year, but now the moon was closer, nothing could stop him, short of a wand.

What was the key to distract her?

Just long enough for...

That's right. Fluster. Fluster could work really well.

Draco, not bothering to turn around, slowly pulled down his fly watching her every move. Hermione, understandably, didn't know where to look. "Stop it," she said through gritted teeth. "I know what you're doing."

"And what's that?" he replied patronizingly.

"You're trying to distract me. And this tells me all I need to know about the size of your brain. It's small enough, to be contained in the tip of that annoyingly thick shaft of yours."

Now _Draco _was the one thrown for a loop. He stopped what he was doing, and gaped at Granger. Then he protectively pulled up his zipper, and huddled in his robes again, trying to shrink inside the voluminous fabric. Hermione turned beet red, but she didn't allow herself to think too much about what she said.

_Thick shaft..._

Shut up brain!

"Now you've got that out of your system, let's go back to the others."

* * *

When they got back to Grimmauld Place, and Malfoy didn't waste time lingering downstairs, Harry asked for a word in the kitchen.

"What happened in the woods?"

"That's five words."

"Hermione!"

"You don't have to worry. It's nothing I couldn't handle."

"Did he...did he...?" Harry looked repulsed to say the words, but she got the gist of what he meant by the way he wrung his hands and looked apologetic. She appreciated his brotherly concern, but she didn't want Harry to think she wasn't a force to be reckoned with, when brandishing her wand.

"_No."_

"Then what happened?"

"To be honest with you, Harry, I think he's acting very abnormally. Even for him. If I'm correct, the full moon is due in four days, and it's making him more...flippant than usual. They way he was laughing up there, and then how he spat on Narcissa's grave..." Hermione shuddered.

"You're right," Harry mused. "That's below the belt even for a berk like him."

"It's why I need some help with the potions," Hermione sighed. "We need to control this behaviour, before he transforms and all hope is lost."

"Okay."

Hermione felt reassured at Harry's nod, but more pressing concerns were egging her on. Malfoy was in their care for 2 days, and already she felt exhaustion with dealing with the matter. Kingsley letter was all fair and well, but how long were they supposed to enforce this guardianship upon Malfoy?

Two weeks?

Two months?

Hermione gulped at the thought of two years.

_No way. _She vowed. _I'll tame this nightmare if it's the last thing I do._

* * *

**AN: Nearly at 10K. Tell me your inner monologue! Will prompt a speedy response x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: No. Just no.**

**Note: This chapter is a bit bonkers. Should be funny though. It's what I'm aiming for.**

5.

Hermione did a full inventory of her potion stock, the following dawn. Although no-where near impressive as Snape's - who had a lifetime of acquiring rare ingredients - it did pack a paltry punch of competence. However it was currently running low, the risk of brewing many potions, and she needed to nip over to Diagon Alley to pick up more.

"Harry?" she half-called up the stairs, aware he was moving about in the bathroom.

She didn't want to risk waking Malfoy up.

He didn't acknowledge her call, so she grumbled, and climbed the few stairs to reach his range. Now the noises became more apparent. He was flushing the loo.

"Harry?" she knocked lightly on the door, aware it was locked. "It's me, Hermione." She rolled her eyes. Well of course it was her. Unless Malfoy could do an uncanny falsetto. "I'm popping out for a bit. Can you keep stirring the potion every quarter of an hour, until I get back? I won't be long, promise."

A low grunt sounded within the shower.

"Thanks," she called appreciatively, waving at the door. "Bye!"

Diagon Alley was stirring, just as Hermione arrived. She made a beeline for the Apothecary on the North-side, and spent a few galleons on castor oil, Joberknoll feathers and Lacewing flies.

"Would you like a complimentary clipper with that?" The shop assistant offered, pulling out a shinily wrapped pair of tweezers. "For the lacewing flies," he added. "Special offer."

"Yes please."

She exited the store, delighted with her purchases, and was just strolling past Eelops, when a hand shot out of nowhere and pulled her into the dark alleyway between two shops. Hermione didn't have a chance to scream, before she was pushed against the wall, being ravished by a stranger.

He hoisted her up, so she was straddling his knee, and sucked her plump lips into his mouth, turning his attention to the crook of her neck, by burying his hands there.

Instinctively, she clutched his head, moaning as lips withdrew.

"Cameron," she sighed. "I've missed this."

Cameron didn't respond. He jerked aside her robes, and riped open her shirt, so buttons rolled down the alleyway. Her bra was a modest one-piece, but she couldn't help but laugh, when he dove headfirst into her cleavage, and trapped himself between both her mounds.

"Jesus, woman," he mounted. "It's a crime to hide these bangers. They're wide enough to fry eggs on."

Hermione laughed even harder.

"Don't stop. These vibrations are killing me. They're like rumbling earthquakes, shooting down my body, straight to my..."

"Cameron!"

Hermione slapped his shoulder, wanting him to acknowledge her face. She has missed the mischievous twinkle, in those dark brown eyes, the square jawline she enjoyed running her fingers across, and his ebony hair flicking down his forehead. He was slightly older than her, but muggleborn, and worked in the same department at work.

That's how they met. He asked her out for dinner, one day after a miserable break-up with Ron, and she hadn't looked back.

The gregarious sex was a bonus too.

He only ever talked dirty when they were making love, the rest of the time he was the picture of decorum. It made her ache, thinking about the beast inside, when he was standing up, delivering a speech at work, because as he spoke, all she could picture was his toes curling inward and his cum face.

It made her all tingly.

Cameron grinned, as he lent down and captured her lips again.

"Sorry. That must have given you a scare."

"And then some. What are you doing in Diagon Alley so early?"

"All business, I'm afraid. There's a special delivery going to be made, and I'm here to intercept it. Of course, my thoughts were interrupted by a woman strutting down the street, and I _had _to follow."

"Strutting?"

"You haven't been in work this week. Are you all right?"

"I'm standing here, aren't I?"

Cameron took hold of her hands. "Have you put anymore thought into moving with me?"

The blood running inside Hermione's veins seemed to freeze. He has been asking this question for a month now, and she always found ways to run circles around him, but she could see he was getting impatient. Why shouldn't he? If she arrived at his doorstep, it was sex on tap.

It was why she never considered it a possibility, when she decided to move from Grimmauld Place, before Harry stopped her. Malfoy needed all the help he could get.

Malfoy!

Hermione jerked inadvertently out of Cameron's grasp, and tried not to read too much into the rejection swimming in his face. Her hand was still holding limply the bag of potion ingredients, and she needed to get back soon as possible. Her on-off lover might see it as an excuse, but it was genuine.

She kissed him. Briefly.

"I really need to go, Cameron, but I'll see you after the sabbatical."

She apparated before he could respond. On the doorstep outside the house, Hermione clocked the state she was in. Her shirt was gaping open and hair was sticking up in clufts. She quickly pulled both ends of the robe together, and conjured a belt to tie them up.

Her hair could be sorted later.

Walburga Black started shrieking, throwing out a dish of mudbloods and scum. She ignored the petty jibes, and hurried to the kitchen to check on her potion.

"Oh no!" she cried. It was putrid green, rather than a glowing violet.

All she asked Harry was to keep an eye on the potion.

"HARRY!"

"Up here."

The muffled of her friend, made Hermione crane her neck up the stairs. Harry rounded the corner, and thundered down to meet her, looking in all terms of the word - panicked.

"He's legged it."

It took Hermione a few seconds to know what that meant.

"What! Where?"

"I don't know. It was like he knew I was alone. He knew I had about sixteen different wards in the room, so he waited for me down in the kitchen, and told me you left a message. Something about stirring the potion."

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth.

"So obviously I turned to check - which is inherently _stupid- _and he pounced whilst my back was turned. I went down like a house of bricks, and he just snatched the wand from my pocket and then-"

"And then what?" Hermione was hanging onto every word, especially when Harry winced.

"He kicked me in the nuts."

"No!"

"Yes. It hurt like a bitch. Now who's going to face Ginny, and tell her that our chances to have children, has been dramatically halved. _I_ don't want too. She's going to kill me."

"What were you doing upstairs?"

"Ransacking his room. Looking for any clues. I didn't find much, except for a picture of you huddling over an ice-cream."

Hermione blushed.

"We need to find him, before he kills someone." Hermione was close to desperation. "It's so close to the full moon! The transformation is imminent, and if there's no locked room to contain him..."

Harry's face reflected the disaster it might turn out to be. He looked around the kitchen, particularly at the carrier bag still in her hands, and told her to make another batch whilst he hunted Draco down. Harry's wand could cause some serious damage in Draco's hand.

* * *

Crisp, clean air.

Undulating sunshine.

Draco took a deep breath, and smiled at passers-by, as they crossed him in a bustling London street. A genuine smile. A smile that embraced his freedom, and a future full of possibilities. He never felt more alive too. Every stride was purposeful, his body hulk never more potent.

Since he was burning up, he whipped of his shirt, which caused a subtle reaction from other people.

He wrung it out, and globules of sweat emptied out in a drain.

"Sir, have you ever considered modelling?" a spokesperson from a nearby store, attempted to recruit him. Draco saw the boy as nothing more than a delicious meal, standing on two legs.

"No." _I want to eat you._

"Well, can you spare a minute?"

"Yes." _If it means I can eat you._

The boy lead him into a backroom of a clothes outlet, and seemed unnerved to see Draco right on his heels. "I'm Mike," he introduced, hands shaking as he set up a camera on a tripod. He nodded to a bunch of business cards piled on top of camera equipment.

The backroom had been made to resemble a photo studio, with a florescent screen dominating one wall. There was an ethnic patterned board to get changed behind, just at the corner.

"Whatever," Draco said impatiently.

"It's a good day to choose to walk down Reagent's Street, sir. I work for a local modelling agency, and we subsidise with Alexander McQueen, Stella McCartney, Armani...all the greats. We're doing a one-off recruitment today, to find new talent."

Mike's lips interestingly resembled sausages.

"How do you feel about underwear modelling?"

"I love it," Draco's eyes rose and captured Mike's. It was electric.

"Great," a flash accidentally went off, when he pressed the wrong button. "Well, um, sorry about that. If you don't mind going behind that screen and changing into these. Just for a few test shots." He held out a skimpy piece of underwear, which Draco snatched without little hesitation.

He was being controlled by the werewolf.

What the fuck was it doing?

Behind the screen, the underwear resembled a pair of knickers. Since his testicles were a little big, he had to tuck them carefully inside, so not to scare the poor bloke off. There was a full-length mirror and he examined his reflection. The little pouch accentuated his junk, rather than it concealing it. It drooped proudly.

He walked out unabashed, and took his place before the flourescent screen.

Mike instructed him to pose naturally, it was nothing serious.

_Flash!_

Draco stuck both hands behind his head.

_Flash!_

He thrust his hips towards the camera.

_Flash!_

His hands dropped, stretching out the waistband and peeking inside.

Mike looked up from his camera, jaw hanging open, and when he swallowed it sounded thick and luxurious. "W-What are you doing?"

"Shut up," Draco rudely remarked. "I saw the way you were looking at me."

He looked Mike up and down, seeing only a column of meat, dressed in chinos and a black t-shirt. "Let me take pictures of _you,"_ he asked, a nouvelle way of examing the goods. Mike was clearly debating the proposition, but Draco's near naked body seemed to be having a hypnotic effect on him.

"I-I-"

"Get in front of the camera. Start taking your clothes off."

Mike slowly switched places with Draco, a startling vunerability in his eyes. He slowly pulled of the T-shirt, revealing chinese characters tattoed on his left shoulder, and the name of a previous boyfriend tattoed on his chest. Draco saw nothing but juicy flesh, which he captured by pressing the button Mike showed him.

"I-I've never relenquished control before," he said out loud, a look of awe as he regarded Draco. "It feels kinda good."

"Are you fantasising about me?"

"I-I've just met you."

"But you want me."

"Y-Yes."

"Should we pose together?"

Mike stuttered, as if he hardly believed his luck. "O-Okay. But we need to set up the timer. It'll take shots every five seconds."

"Sounds good to me."

As Mike fiddled with the camera, Draco felt his impatience wearing dicernibly thin. The werewolf wanted to eat, but he wanted to toy first. It was a sick, bastardly creature that Draco vehemently hated. The human side of him was locked up in a compartment somewhere - repulsed and furious about the situation.

Trapped. Searching death.

His werewolf didn't differentiate between man or woman. Mudblood or pureblood. This twisted game was just that. A game. There was no off-limits.

"Come here," he growled.

Mike hurried to stand in front of Draco, shivering. Draco reeled him in, by the seat of his belt and the first click went off. It showed two men ready to engage in serious foreplay. Potter's wand was still in a pocket, discarded behind the screen, but in this state - Malfoy didn't even know what Hogwarts was.

"C-Can I kiss you?"

Draco smirked. "If you must."

Mike's hand crept up Draco's biceps and his heartbeat sped up. Draco could hear it.

The next flash came and went.

He lent down, so there was a whisker between their lips. "But not before I gut you and hang your carcass out to dry. You stupid fucking muggle."

* * *

**AN: This chapter is a little out there but leading to someplace good. It'll be pretty tricky not to have an opinion on this. Expected? Unexpected? What the hell just happened? Theories?**

**If I reach the big 3-0 (reviews), I'll update then. Thanks and good day!**


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